Kissing Death
by ShyReaper
Summary: You'd think that making a Deal with Death would be so simple, or at least more simple than a Deal with the Devil but you'd be as wrong as Kenny was when he asked Death for no more surprises. Like all wishes, Death took his words a bit more literally than Kenny'd like. Now not only is his life worse off than before but Kyle's involved too. Warning: K2, sexual content, boyXboy.
1. Bearing the Pain

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any South Park characters. ****They are trademarks of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.**

**TAGS: RAPE, BoyXBoy, RAPE, Medium Violence and Gore, Sexual Content as RAPE, Foul Language and Mild Mind Break. K2**

* * *

Bearing the Pain

I pushed both of his wrists over his head, roughly pressing my body over his against the wall. The knife that was in his grasp faltered a bit, but not quite out of his grip. Not like it mattered, though, I thought with a grin. I wasn't _interested_ in the knife, after all.

Kyle started to struggle but no matter how hard he tried, he could not budge from under my hold.

My tongue traces over my teeth. How pathetic, I think to myself.

He gives me a deep glare from under his eyes that could have literally killed me if it wasn't for the pact that I made. But let's say that there's more than one way that he's killing me, and it's _deep_ and _hot_. **Fuck!**

"Let me go, Kenny!" He said in a fluster. Face burning red from either fear or anger. I licked my lips shrewdly anticipating what was coming next.

"Ah, ah, ah, _babe_," I purr, sticking my nose between his neck, taking in his slightly strawberry-scented masculinity with a heavy whiff. I gave his neck a quick lick before I left its warmth to look him in the eyes with desire. "You will just try to _kill_ me again." My lips part and I could see my fangs twinkle in the redheaded Jew's dark pupils.

His face fell even further for a moment before that adorable rage of his kicked back in and consumed his being. Kyle seemed to have tapped into an unknown source of strength, allowing him to push back against me. But it was still not enough to keep him from being pinned, of course. "**Fuck you, Kenny**! You can't even die!"

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

**Fuck**!

_**Fucking Kyle!**_

What little self-restraint and willpower I had left in me had begun to shake and crumble fast. I felt all of the heat in my body going up to my chest and down to my groin.

Why did he have to be such a tease?! The way his lips quivered, how his eyes gleamed in determination, and that small lanky form of his! Why did fucking Kyle have to be so fucking…_fuckable!_

I know I'm no poet but damn!

And don't get me started on that big tender butt of his—

Suddenly, I feel something hard crash into my forehead, forcing me into a small daze. A warm wetness falls down between my eyes before realization hit me! Looking back at Kyle, who had just head-butted me, I open my mouth agape, slightly surprised. '_That little tease…_.' That quickly disappeared and the perverted grin I wear causes him to momentarily freeze up.

"I'll take you up on that earlier offer of fucking," I blow my breath against the tip of his ear, "you." I crashed my lips against his. His muffled protests tickled my cheeks.

Without wasting any more time and with the ginger distracted, I let go of my right hand and place it on his toned chest. I could feel his nipple harden as I rubbed my palm on it, in circular motions, from over the wooly green fabric.

He moaned out loudly, and I took that as my queue to dive in to explore his mouth deeper with my tongue. His muscles tensed and I can feel that his legs went limp. My hand shoots under his shirt and starts sucking in the warmth from his soft flesh, before I quickly moved down past his belly and grabbed at his member with a tight hot flesh thickens into my palm as I stroke it and I hear the clank of something metallic dropping onto the ground. I could tell that the strain the jeans had on his cock was painful as he gasped and practically tried to hump my hand but the position made it more than impossible.

My hand slowly becomes gooey as I press my whole body flat against him, rubbing my groin on his. I'm thankful that I was wearing sweatpants or I'd be pushing painfully tight against hard fabric, too. Not that that little sense of masochism didn't sound awesome.

Maybe next time we could do some itchy foreplay.

I attempted to stroke both of our cock with my one hand through the two fabrics of our pants which ended as poorly as you'd have guessed. But dang did it make me feel all itchy, the good kind. Ugh, the feeling of his hard yet squishy meat slapping at mines from under the hard jeans and soft sweatpants, it was so hard to describe! I even stained my pants darker from leaking a little too much.

The heat from his lips quickly drained as he snapped his head to the side, cutting my lips a bit with his fangs. A thin line of saliva trailed between our mouths. His face was burning almost as red as his own hair. He clenched his eyes shut and frowned, hanging his head down low so I couldn't see his eyes from under his bangs. He made a noise that was like the moan of some bestial yet heavenly creature.

If I had to guess, I'd say it sounded like the soft melody from a young angel's song mixed in with the dying engine of a rusty clunker on its last fuse!

Except, this was no angel (good thing too considering how boring they are) and most enjoyably not a damned truck!

I couldn't wait any longer.

I freed my other hand and tugged harshly at his zipper, trying to rip it open.

"Kenny! Don't!" He pleaded. "You're going to ruin my pants."

"That's the least of your worries, Kyle." I laugh.

I rip through the pants and I cut myself in the process but ignore it. He definitely won't be able to wear these particular pair anymore, unless he doesn't mind giving people more than a little service. I wrap an arm around his waist, keeping him in the air with his back hard on the wall, tugging his pants completely off with the other. He unconsciously wrapped his legs around me and shoved his face between the nooks of my shoulder.

Delicious tears started to drip from his eyes and I couldn't help but move in and lick them off.

"Fuck you, Kenny! Fuck you!" He sobbed uncontrollably. "Why don't you ever stay _**dead**_!" The poor Jew really did want me dead. I admit those words hurt a little more than I would've liked but I steeled my resolve.

I can't let his helpless pleas sway me or my erection.

"Don't worry, babe, this will all be over soon...!" I say as huskily as I could into his ear. I ignore his small hiccups as he softly cries, _"That's what you always say."_

I threw him down on his back on the floor behind me, not caring to see if he was even alright. He looked up at me, fear clear in his eyes, as he attempted to back away on the wooden surface. In his panicked and wounded state, he barely moved a snail's pace, allowing me to simply walk over to him and lay on him with my knees on either side of his waist.

I took in his meatless form, his arms so skinny that they were comparable to a child's even though he was closer to an adult in age. His face so round and oh so squeezable. And as thin as his body is, it curved in all the right places, particularly the hips and thighs.

Geez, if I wasn't lying right on top of him right now, I'd flip him over and stare at his lush ass all night. But my desire for release overcame any other small urges I had at the moment.

Kyle is mines, and I _want_ him **now**!

"Please…no!" He begged to deaf ears. He knew what was coming and he knew I knew it. This isn't the _first_ time. And it sure as hell won't be the _last_!

I reached a hand out to grab at his face, tightening my thumb and index finger around his cheeks until his face puffed out like a fish. A very cute guppy fish, mind you.

"No…? Don't you mean _YES?"_ I lick my teeth and swallowed in his look of despair as I roughly plunge into him, his flesh tightening around me like a snake.

All I heard after were the sounds of Kyle's wails and sobs.

* * *

We were huddled together on the hard uncomfortable floor, stark naked. Our backs were definitely going to feel it later, especially Kyle's cute little bum. I made sure of that. A look of horror and disbelief filled his face as he squeezed his arms around his chest for comfort against the deed from a few hours ago.

I felt him shiver in my arms and I knew it had nothing to do with any lack of warmth. I did this before and I'll do it again. I frown, keeping my eyes closed even though I knew Kyle would be in his own little world right now. A world he created long ago to escape from this nightmare. To escape from _me_.

I feel his body move out of my dead grasp but I continue to feign ignorance and let it go unnoticed.

_**Ruum. Chreh. Rhur.**_

The sounds of hands rummaging through items from inside drawers, the closet, and of those strewn all across the floor echoed silently. Then I hear the familiar sound.

_**Slish! Sik!**_

I could already feel its coldness touch my skin before I felt Kyle's warm knees press tightly on my stomach. He gently sat down on me and leaned forward, our noses barely touching but I could feel his warm breath on my neck.

My eyes slowly open only to meet with sharp green pupils. They held no ounce of warmth, only an icy cold hatred.

If an outsider were to observe us, they'd have thought Kyle was being kinky. That is, if it weren't for the knife he was holding near my forehead.

I thought for a moment, about swinging him off of me and taking him again or even raising my hands to grab at his butt which was dangerously close to my nether regions.

He wobbles a bit since he was mostly holding himself in the air with one hand beside my head and his knees. It was like he was afraid of taking steady ground.

"…._Die!"_ He whispers but I know it's not to me.

I see a glint of the metal shine in the light before it stabs into my left eye, causing half of my vision to turn red and dark. It pulls out slowly; the insides of my eye drag out a bit with it, before it rips in and out in lightning speed. The knife stabs so far in that it hits my skull, cracking it. He continues to stab that same spot like a madman, until he lost his control and started stabbing all over, hitting various parts of my face and the floor under me. At this point, his eyes are closed, tears forming, and my vision is completely red. Even then, I can still see the look of helplessness on his wounded face.

I smirk through cut lips, although he could not see it. It wasn't a triumphant one, either. It was one of self-pity and disgust. I never wanted to hurt him this badly, if at all. We were supposed to be in love and cuddling, not this stupid messed up relationship crap.

My body seizes and turns motionless. What warmth I had started with had already left after the first few stabs. I am so numb that I didn't notice that Kyle had stopped stabbing me. He clutches the sides of his head in an attempt to stop himself from shaking left and right, finally screaming. He looked like a crazed serial killer with that knife still in his hand–if it was anyone but me that would have been the case–as he attempts to forget all of what just happened.

_**Including me**_**.**

I can still see everything even as I lay there dead. He sluggishly stands up, staring at me as if looking at a ghost before he threw the knife aside. He left with the door wide open and returned shortly with a blanket in tow.

He returned to his previous position from beside me and fluffed out the blanket so that it covered the two of us from under its cover. Kyle sighed with dry tears still lingering on his cheeks as he leaned into me, using my hard and cold shoulders as a pillow. He reached over to my corpse's chest with a hand, gripping the layers of cloth tightly, as if he was afraid that I'd disappear if he were to let go.

My poor little messed up ginger.

All of it, my fault.

But I just can't stop hurting him.


	2. Once Upon a Time

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any South Park characters. They are trademarks of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.**

**TAGS: Existence of Hell, Random Death, Damien, Foul Language, Flirting, Satan Cross Dressing. Oh, and BoyXBoy. K2**

* * *

Once Upon a Time

"Oh, come on!" I roared in annoyance as I found myself in the eternally long line in Hell. This was like, what, the 4th time that I died, _**this week?**_! Sure, I somewhat got used to all the dying but that didn't make it any less convenient. I was supposed to be hanging out with my buddies at school! I groan in annoyance as I remember the mishap that happened only an hour back.

_**There I was, merely waiting for the bus to take me and the gang over to school. But apparently I just happened to step **_**right**_** on a landmine that was there for God knows how long! My guts flew all over the place! And magically, my buddies were always out of harm's way even though they were standing **_**right next**_** to me! It's nice that I heal from this, but it gets **_**very**_** old **_**very**_** fast with all of the sudden deaths. Not to mention that I could **_**still feel**_** it. Jesus Christ, man! It's no wonder that I see emo vampires (or at least wannabes).**_

I approached one of the red devil ladies from over at the Customer Help Service desk.

"_Hell_o! Welcome to Hell, how may I help you?" The young woman, who looked to be around her mid-20s, greeted me with a professional and curt smile.

"I want to speak to Satan." I lean over the counter with my elbow, in no mood for fake pleasantries, especially not with a skele-faced demonic she-devil of Hell. These women of Hell were only _hot_ in one sense and only one sense, and not even I wanted to get my dick burned/chewed off in their nether regions. And that's not even including their face, a zombie with green rotted flesh and worms sticking out would look more pleasant.

"Oh! Right, then, sir." She turned to her computer screen and started typing away. Click. "I'm sorry," she apologized and turned back to face me, "Mr. Thorn is very busy at the moment. Would you like to make an appointment for another time?"

I eyed her suspiciously before asking, "How long is the wait?"

"Let's see…" Her fingers rapidly ran through a few more keys, "Umm…the earliest we can receive you is, 6:35 pm on October the 31st of the year 2666."

"Say _what_?!" I slam my fist down, causing the lady to jump up in fright. "What in the **Hell** is he _doing_?! No damn pun freakin' intended!" And as if to answer my question, I spot the big tub of red meat in the background lying on one of those 'lifted by slaves' high throne thingies like some sort of faggy prima donna. He was wistfully spinning a wrist in the air, shouting orders at his followers and—was-was that a short skirt school uniform wrapping his fat behind!?

"_Pi__ñ__as Coladas for everyone once we reach Miami shores!"_ A small cheer could be heard from the crowd of party goers and I see a bunch of shot glasses raised up in the air. There was even a little confetti thrown in for some reason.

He's busy?!—My ass!

I puffed out my cheeks before frowning. I immediately leave the Help Desk and I was practically _stomping_ down towards him, not caring that I pushed through a few dozen of undead souls onto the ground. Knocking more than a _little_ onto a giant pile atop of one another like something out of a horror movie filled with corpses. Heck, I even pushed some guy with glasses who wasn't even _in_ my way into some old lady for added measures!

"_Gwah! My hip, I can't get up!"_ I hear the lady cry out with a dry dusty voice.

I was that pissed!

"**Satan!**" I kick another person in front of me, stepping over the guy like a bridge, before finally reaching him. I ignore all of the fearful stares of the crowd from behind, who attempted to keep as far a distance from me as possible. "Get out of there, you freakin' prima donna!"

"Hwah?" Satan groaned out in what I can only assume is a drunken stupor. His surprisingly tiny head popped out of the window of his chair throne thingy and his look of confusion quickly changed to joy when he spotted me. "Ah! If it isn't my friend Kenny!" He waved his hand in a gesture to tell the servants to drop him. Once he touched ground, he immediately ran out and hugged me in his tight grasp.

I, unsurprisingly, did not return the gesture.

"Hey, _wassup_ my dog?" Satan tried to sound '_hip'_ and '_cool'_, failing very miserably at it. I roll my eyes before glaring at him. He didn't seem to notice my annoyance one bit and that pissed me off even more! Seriously, dude, learn to read the atmosphere! I mean, I didn't trash the spirit of an old lady's hip for nothing! Though, it was kinda funny. Hey, don't give me that look! She's already dead—what do you mean that makes it worse? Whatever, moving on, you killjoys.

"Look," I start to say to him, "we need to talk about something."

"Sure, sure! What do you need?" He sounded eager to please, causing my frown to slip a bit. This might be easier than I had earlier thought. Why didn't I ever think of this 6 years ago? Welp, better late than never.

"I need to stop _dying_." I say but received a raised brow from him instead. I add, "I _mean_, I'm getting damned tired of this whole dying repeatedly bit and coming back to life like nothing ever happened! It wouldn't be so bad if people remembered but they don't and it's driving me insane!"

"Oh!" He sounded extremely pleased at my demand. "So, you want to stay here _forever_?" His eyes sparkled like his best girlfriend—as in how girls would call each other—had wanted to become his sister or move in for a permanent sleepover. How gay could this guy get?

"Not that," I motion to stop him and sigh to his disappointment. "I just keep dying so damn much, like the effin' Grim Reaper has his sniper rifle aimed at me, constantly. I want to stop all of the random dying. If I have to sacrifice my immortality for it that's fine by me, too. Just stop killing me!"

Satan's eyes melted into one of those poor puppy eyes that you see when you leave a dog at the pound. He was quiet for a moment before he sighed and dropped his arms to his side. Well, that wasn't a good sign. "Sorry, I can't help you with that..."

"Why **not?!**" I demand.

"It's just," he starts to twirl his fingers around his blonde curly wig, "I don't _like_ that work stuff. -_Pop-!_"

Seriously? Did he just pop a bubble gum in front of me like some punk teen? _Dude!_ He did not look like he wanted to help, at all! Some friend he is.

"I mean, if you really want to deal with that stuff, you should meet up with Death, I mean, he's the one who, like, keeps killing you, after all." Now he's starting to sound like a whiny bitch. What's with the mood whiplash? First he was overjoyed to see me now he's acting like I'm trying to ban skinny dipping or something. I swear.

"Where can I find him…?" I start to ask, ignoring the rage that Satan was giving me. Maybe it's because this is Hell and dying isn't a big deal. _**Pop!**_—or Satan is an asshole!

"You know…I'm not really sure. I mean, like, I hire the guy but I just never pay attention to what he does or where he goes?" He drawled, getting back in his high throne. "Oh!" He shot up and turned to face me again, now looking excited and no longer bored. "I _do_ remember that lil' Dame likes to hang out with Death sometimes! You should maybe, like, check out his room?"

"And **where** is that?" I ask with my arms crossed, tapping my foot like mad.

"Just head on to the _Hell-evator_ over there," he pointed his thick red sausage of a finger to the left behind me. It was a typical elevator, albeit adorned with bones, dripping with blood and a poster of Satan posing in spandex that left very little to the imagination. "Just go to Floor 666.66 and his room is the sixth to the right."

"_Six hundred and sixty six point six six?_" I feel stupid just saying the floor number. Who has freakin' .66 of a floor?

Apparently, Damien Thorn does.

"Thanks, Big Red," I wave him goodbye as I head down towards the elevators that went up.

Most of them went down—Heh, I'm funny—so I found myself riding solo.

"Going _**up!**_" I snicker like an idiot.

After the 'ding' sounded I hear music starting up in the background.

Oh, God, no! My smile immediately turns sour. I _hear_ it! That horrible, _horrible_, _**horrible sound!**_It was that sickeningly 'sweet' music that can _only_ be found in the elevator!

Worst part was that it was a stupid Christmas tune!

In the middle of freakin' early Spring!

I mean don't get me wrong, I love Christmas—if you don't celebrate it, fine by me just don't get up in my face about it—but I **hate, hate** their music! It was like shooting a nail gun through your brain! The scars of Christmas carols will forever linger until you die!

No wonder they call this the _**Hell**_-evator!

* * *

The elevator 'ding'ed and the music finally _stopped_!

"_Up on the rooftop reindeer pause,_

_ Out jumps good old Santa Claus_

_Down through the chimney with lots of toys,_

_ All for the little ones, Christmas__—__!"_

I force myself to stop when I see the door open slowly. My face slowly heats up and I look outside to see if anyone was there to see me singing like a deranged lunatic.

No one in sight.

Wewt.

Ugh, those songs were going to be stuck in my noggin for months before I can forget them!

Looking around, I notice that it was a long straight empty hallway. It looked straight out of that movie '_The Shining'_, if you ever seen it, with those twins and they were like "Come play with us…" all scary like. I wouldn't be surprised if they did show up all ghostly and shit, but I'm not scared! I faced the likes of demons and Cartman's butt crack, and nothing can be scarier than his fuckin' butt crack!

So this shit will be a breeze!

* * *

What door was it again? I wonder as I steadily walk the halls. Something six to the left? Or was it about the sixth door to the right? All I know is the number six because Satan just _loves_ that number! I bet he'd throw all of his money at the casino with his 6's.

Hmm, 6 upside down is 9 and if you put those two together you get the number _69_…I wonder if Satan is making some subliminal message there. I drool a bit but immediately wipe it away.

Eh, who cares what the old gay Prince of Darkness is up to!

I start knocking on all of the doors, each time finding the wrong person. I keep knocking until I reached one door that seemed to be unoccupied but just as I turned to leave I heard loud whispers from the other side. One that sounded extremely similar to Damien's.

"Me? Why should I?" I hear the voice of Damien Thorn talking harshly to the other occupant. The two voices were overlapping for a few seconds before it went completely silent.

After a few shuffling noises (was he hiding his porn or something) in the background, I see the door creak open. Damien was the one holding the door; he didn't look like he was going to let me in, only simply checking on whom it was that was knocking.

"Oh! Kenny…?" He fiddles with his tie and unbuttoned top, a bit—seriously the guy's wearing a full blown black suit? I could see a red velvet shirt sticking out from underneath. This literally put the words 'goth' and 'business man' together in a sentence that I never thought that I would ever utter. It was weird but kind of fitting for the twerp. "How may I help you?"

He smiles, professionally at me. He definitely didn't want me to enter, I could tell you that much. Can't blame him though, I'd want to be left alone too and not be bothered from time to time.

"I heard from the grape vine that you were meeting with Death?" I say quickly to the point.

No need to drag this on longer than it needed to be. I had a schedule to keep, after all.

"Ah…you are here to see Death?"

I didn't like the look on his face. First, he looked like he wanted to get rid of me and now he seemed to be just full of open arms. It was like he was in on some joke that I wasn't fully aware of.

"Please, come in." He moves aside and gestured me inside. That was a major warning sign. It was like someone was blaring loud heavy metal music with the lyrics, "get out now, it's a trap, it's a trap!" running over and over in my head.

Sighing, I resigned myself to my fate as the door shut behind me. "I want to make a deal with Death." I say and I see a tall skeletal figure cloaked in black appear, nearly scaring the shit out of me.

Death, I assumed, didn't say anything as he wistfully floated into the center of the room. His robe was tattered and flowing from an unseen force similar to the wind yet I couldn't feel a breeze. Glowing red eyes peered at me from the bony skull under the hood, not once breaking contact.

He simply raised his skeleton hand and pointed it at me similar to that time long ago.

Damien finished buttoning his shirt and smirked my way, "I think he likes you!" He chuckled lightly.

"I want to make a deal." I repeated, this time looking in Death's direction, dead in his eyes. No pun intended. "Stop with all of this randomly killing me."

"And, for what in return?" Death finally spoke and I feel myself freeze but it wasn't that his voice had frightened me. It was due to how familiar it was. His voice was crisp and clear, filled with a sense of authority that reminded me of one person and one person only!

"K-K-Kyle?!" I nearly fell on my butt as I tried to back away. When he took down his hood, bones were replaced with flesh, and red curly hair fell down on gentle white skin. His eyes earlier that were glowing red had magically turned a brilliant green.

"Not Kyle," Damien spoke up with a knowing smirk. "Death merely takes on the form that is most pleasing to you."

"Are you…trying to say that…I…." No. Fucking. Way!

"Exactly!" Damien laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. He gave 'Kyle' a look before turning back to me. "You perv'!" He exclaimed.

Really, me…and Kyle? I freeze up. I need something to drink. Booze preferably. And a **ton** of pills. Maybe some rat poison, too, while I'm at it.

"You're lying!" I try to shout but my voice is quaky and his raised brow and smirk tells me that I wasn't very convincing. "Wait!" I hold my chin in thought. "If that's true, then how'd you know that I saw Kyle? If he appears like the person you like then how come you know it's Kyle?!" I got you! He can't trick me, that little douche of the dark.

"I'm the Anti-Christ, the Devil's son?" He looks at me, obviously amused. "I can see all of the forms he chooses, including his true one. Besides…you just said his name was Kyle…and offhandedly admitted that you like Kyle." He looked at me, shaking his head as if talking to a moron. Okay, maybe I wasn't that smart but still!

My mouth hangs agape, speechless.

Centuries seem to pass by until I feel a warm hand wrap from under my chin and close my open mouth for me. As I focus my vision I see that it was Kyl—no!—Death. I noticed that he was leaning in waaaay too close for comfort or what was reasonably considered polite space.

"Hey!" I try to glare at Death but was shocked by his look of playful yet seductive innocence plastered on his visage. My face started to twist until I looked close to having constipation. This can't be right. Kyle…this isn't Kyle, I try to reason.

Shaking off the feeling, I force myself to look away to face Damien. "What's his true appearance, then?" I needed to distract myself from this lookalike.

"Hahaha, I think that I'll keep that to myself for now." Damn it! He looked towards the fake Kyle and there was a twinkle of knowing mischief in both of their eyes. I saw Death give a weird gesture with both of his hands clasped together, index fingers and thumbs pointing down, connected with one another.

It looked like a heart.

He noticed me staring and smiles, sticking his tongue out at me like a little boy.

Che, I bet he's _real_ ugly, that's why he hides his face.

"So," he starts, changing subject. I still can't erase Kyle being the one that I'm talking to from my mind as I hear his chilling voice echo in my ears. "What do you have to offer _me_?" He gigged, very un-Kyle-like I know, and sat down on the desk with one leg crossed over the other. He kept that giant grin on his face. I wish _Kyle_ was this playful—I mean, Kyle **never** acted like this!

"Offer?" I return his question back to him.

"Yes," Damien elbows me, somewhat _rougher_ than what would constitute as playful, in the arm. "What's your price for stopping all of those _unfortunate_ moments of deaths?"

"Yes, _what_?" "Indeed." "Please tell, us." "We're dying to know."

"I dunno!" I shout in frustration at the barrage of questions. "I don't have anything to offer!" I say. I start to think out loud of the things I could _possibly_ have to offer him. "My soul is worthless since I already die as it is… I doubt that you'd want my bag of half-eaten Cheesy Poofs, especially not _2 weeks old_. And you probably wouldn't even want me to be in your place part-time like that one Family Guy episode."

Before I could add anything else, he shouts, "Oh!" He leans forward with his hands on either side of the desk as if he was going to jump off of it. "_Your_ soul is worth plenty! It's a deal." He lent out his hand for me to shake and I hesitantly held my breath.

"He's not going to bite," Damien nudged me and laughed, adding, "Not unless you _want_ him to."

I grew red before grabbing Death's hand. "…Deal." I grunt. I can only take their teasing for so long. Funny, that the table was turned upside down for me. I never had people flirt and tease with me, before, not to mention a dude. I guess it helped that Death looked so much like…Kyle—it threw me off guard!

Honestly!

"Good!" He smiles, later adding, "Your soul until next time we meet, _dude_, and with interest!"

"**Wait**—**What**?!" Before I could ask what he meant by that, he let go of my hand and I found my vision swirling like a whirlpool.

Everything faded and turned black.

* * *

"_Hwah_!" I find myself leaning out of my bed, falling hard into the creaky wooden floor. My bed covers and blanket soon follow and suffocate me. I swing my fists and kick my legs around like a bug caught in a web, my struggle only making things worse.

"Gawh!" I finally rip my head out of the covers from what seemed like forever. _**Riiip**_. Geez, I ripped some of the fabric. I'll have to look through the landfill for another one later but for now I'll forget about it.

Suddenly red blaring lights catch my attention.

**1:12pm**.

Oh…CRAP!

I run to the closet and grab all of the things that I needed before rushing out my room.


	3. Games Are Bad for the Living Pt1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any South Park characters. They are trademarks of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.**

**TAGS: Foul Language, Flirting, Game Arcade. K2. Stan. Cartman. Butters. Dirty Dancing.**

**A/N: Noticed a few glaring problems with some words in the first two chapters and decided to spice them up a bit if you want to reread.**

* * *

Games Are Bad for the Living: Pt.1 The Dancing Jew

I'm late for school! I mean, I don't give a fuck about school but I really want to see Kyle–I mean, the guys! Ugh! Did that really happen earlier? Did I really make a deal with a _sexy_ _Kyle_ in Hell? Or maybe I'm just going mad and dreamt it all…about Kyle.

Urgh, I need to wash my face.

I started to list the Pros and Cons of making a deal with Death while I gathered my belongings, especially my iconic orange parka that everyone always associated me with. A deal with Death can't be much worse than one with Satan, I reason but then again I and Satan were on pretty good terms. On the other hand, Death isn't known for being evil. Then again, I never knew Death could take on such an attractive form. Hmm, let's just let whatever happen _happen_, I guess. Only thing I could lose from this is my sanity–Oops, _already_ lost that, too!

I quickly run out the kitchen door, grabbing a half-eaten pop tart, it wasn't mines but _second comes first serve_ or something around those lines.

* * *

As soon as I arrived, I heard the bell ring, signaling the start of classes. Seeing that I was still late and out of breath, I decided to just walk. It couldn't be any worse, right?

Mr. Garrison was busy writing away on the chalkboard, chatting away about one of his usually retarded 'lectures' as I opened the door. I kind of pushed it harder than I had anticipated causing a slam that made all eyes drop on me. A few—whom I recognized were sleeping soundly until my disruption—glared my way.

I rubbed the back of my head and tried to laugh it off. It was just the redneck being his usual irresponsible self.

Pay him no mind! Really!

"Kenny, take your seat." Mr. Garrison huffed but he wasn't as mad as one would expect from an authority figure. He was just merely annoyed that his lecture on the latest show that caught his attention was slightly interrupted.

As I swing my bag behind my chair and sit in it, I notice my friends staring at me, besides _Eric Cartman_ who didn't give two shits on **anything** if it didn't concern him.

"Dude," They all hiss at me. "Where were you?"

"_Dead, I was dead. Stepped on a landmine, remem's?"_ I wanted to state but knew that it was pointless. It was always pointless. Whatever magical pixie immortality fairy dust that I had, would always erase everyone's memories of my deaths.

Another reason for me walking thinly on the path of sanity.

"Just overslept," I say but the boys give me a look that said that they didn't believe me.

"Dude!" Kyle screeches once again. It felt like the little brainy Jew had only one word in his vocab at the moment. I ignored him—a slight blush adorned my covered cheeks as I remembered what Death had said—and turned to face Stan. I tried to start a conversation with him about girls but he had other things on his mind.

"I hate school as much as the next person, Kenny, but you've gotta be careful! Mr. Garrison isn't going to do jack squat but if you keep being late you might end up being suspended or _worse_." The puffball boy said.

"What are you, my _mother_?!" I laugh out a little too loudly and lean backwards in my chair.

"_Kenny!_" I hear Mr. Garrison call me.

"_Sarr-wee_, Mr. Garrison," I sang out in false apologies. "Won't do it again, I _prom-wiss!_" He obliviously didn't take my angel routine but he seemed to be too concerned with his 'lecture' to reprimand me any further.

I turn back to face my friends in time to see Kyle still staring at me.

"Dude!" He exclaims, causing me to raise a brow.

"_Dude!"_ I mimic him.

"Dude!" "_Dude!_" "Dude!" _"Dude!"_ "Dude!"

This goes on for a few minutes with Cartman and Stan staring at us with bulging eyeballs. I knew that it was a strange sight but something about Kyle's sudden lack of brain activity was starting to annoy me. Worse was that I wasn't even sure if that rubbed me off in a _good_ way or a **bad** way?

"Dud—" I place two fingers gently over his lips and lightly squeeze at them shut. He freezes in place. Good.

"Can you say _anything_ besides 'dude'?" I ask with a slightly bored tone. I kind of lost myself in his green eyes for a moment. He had my favorite kind of green, _Kyle_ _green_.

"Kenny!" He swats my hand away and glares at me. It was like the two of us were in our own world; everything else was just pitch black in the background.

"_Kyle!_" I say back with a suggestive twinkle in my eyes. I could see him reel back in his seat a bit before I laughed, only quieter this time.

"Guhs!" Eric butted his fat face in. What took him? He usually would have interrupted our moment a few seconds after it had started. I couldn't believe he let it go on as long as it did. "You are _fuckin' __**faaaagggs!**_" He drawled out the words and clenched his eyes like he was having a seizure.

"_Fag?"_ I smirk. "Does that mean that I like boys? Wait! Aren't you, a boy?" I lean out with my arms atop my desk. "So…_boy_ what if I **like**…_you_?!" The moment that I wink at him, Eric nearly explodes. All I can hear is gibberish with the ocassional _'fuuuck'_s and _'poor aids'_s.

Oh, another poor joke, is it? I'll try to remember it along with all of the other ones that he keeps throwing my way. I know grudges are unhealthy but it is _oh so delicious_ when I get to have a little revenge on Cartman every now and then.

"Go to Hell, Kinny!" If only he knew, I thought, before he turns away from me.

"Hey guys, wanna go to that new GameArena that opened over in Denver, after school?" Stan offers, giving Cartman a slightly sympathetic but mostly annoyed look.

"Cool! I'm in dude!"

"Meh, sure. I need to show you pussies how a real man plays games."

"Sorry," I start to say. "I can't join you." I move my hands to my pockets to gesture how empty they were.

"Poo', poo' Kinny! Sucks to be you, ya poor fag!" I would've decked him right there and then if he wasn't two seats away from me. I'd rather spend all of my energy to give him a good whack instead of wasting some of that energy **standing** and **walking**. I would need every bit that I could conserve to get a go past his blubbery shield.

"Shut your trap, fat ass!" Kyle glares at Cartman. He turned to face me with sympathetic eyes, "I can give you some money, if you want?"

I was both appreciative and annoyed at his gesture. I may be on welfare but doesn't mean I want to take handouts, even if it's from Kyle Broflowski!

"Sorry," I say, "I don't wanna take something that I know that I can't pay back." In other words, _"Screw off. I don't want your pity."_

"Come on, dude!" Kyle says. "You don't _need_ to pay me back."

"No way," I retort. "I would feel wrong taking your money."

"Ey! Take the money, Kinny! It's a blue moon when the damned Jews give you anything for **free**, especially money. Of course, I wouldn't put it past them to give you fake or dirty money. Goddamn dirty Jews and their dirty Jewness." Cartman mumbles.

"Shut it, fat ass!" Kyle turns to punch Cartman in the shoulders, earning a short "ow!" in return. He turns back to me, "Come on! It wouldn't be as fun without you. _We_ need you there."

I give the Daywalker a funny look. I didn't like the way he pouted and said '_we'_. It was almost as if he was saying that _he_ needed me there but it must've been my imagination. Stan gave the two of us a look before faking a cough to get our attentions.

"So…," He cuts in, "Looks like all four of us will be able to attend the opening, eh?" We all hummed our agreement, while I slightly groaned. I'll need to make it up to the redhead even though he said not to.

Somehow.

Then the bell rang. We all packed our things and headed to our next class. Stan and Kyle shared most of their periods (wait that didn't sound right) so they couldn't be any happier together. Stupid luck for the Super Best Friends of South Park, I grumble to myself.

I headed to Art, alone. Though, I wouldn't say that I had wanted Cartman's company. Loneliness is definitely preferable to his fat ass.

My last thoughts were on spending some time with my friends after school.

* * *

I'm the first one to arrive at GameArena, probably due to my lack of extracurricular activities. Stan freakin' Marsh is on the football team and Kyle is part of the Student Council under President Wendy Testaburger, Stan's on and off again girlfriend, as the School Treasurer. And Eric's so called 'extracurricular' activity involves plotting ways to make all of our lives that much more miserable.

The next one to arrive is Eric Cartman. Surprise, surprise except for the fact that he had a timid blond boy named, Butters, following him not too far from behind.

"Why's _he_ here?" I ask, not at all angry. I just wasn't sure why Eric would want the nervous fist bumping blond around. He's up to something again and I feel so sorry for Butters for being such a tool, he's just so innocent that people want to see him break.

"I, ugh, _offered_ to help pay for Cartman's entrance when I heard he didn't have the money." Oh, god, he was being tricked.

Typical, Cartman!

"What gives, fat ass?" I nearly scream at him, bumping his forehead against mine, barely head-butting him due to the amount of fat covering his already thick skull.

"Ey, Kinny, if _you_ are getting in for free, why shouldn't _I_?" What a horrible waste of a life! I don't care what people say, there are those who just need to **drop dead** to make this world a better place!

"Mmmph mph!" I mumble hard into my jacket, trying to say 'You bastard!', only receiving a questionable look from Cartman. I lost the energy to repeat my words.

Stan and Kyle arrived together as they got off of the transit bus.

"You guys go on ahead." Kyle smiled as pulled out his wallet and started to hand the money to the clerk. Butters also began to take out his money to pay for his and Cartman's fees but Kyle wouldn't let him. He probably already figured out what was going on and decided to be nice to the blond, even if it meant that Cartman would get in for free.

I could just see the fat boy smirk at the delicious irony of his sworn enemy, a _Jew_, paying for **his** fee.

Stan ran off ahead of us and returned with a few cards from a nearby machine, "Here," he handed each of us our own cards. He smirked at me as he handed me mines. I returned the gesture before pulling him in for a tight hug.

"_Fags!_" Cartman muttered to himself but it was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

We quickly let go, while I gave Cartman the _finger_, and Stan waved us goodbye as he headed into the Shooting Arena.

Eric Cartman dragged Butters into the Co-Op War Zone and I was left standing near the entrance. I wasn't quite sure of where to go first. Particularly, I was a bit lost and felt let down since everyone went their own separate way.

Suddenly, I felt a hand tighten softly around my upper arm and turned to see Kyle smiling at me which making me smile in return.

His smile dropped a bit when he looked around me to see the others gone.

"You guys left me?" He asked, wrinkles forming on his bare forehead, visibly irritated.

"Sorry," I say and raise the card in my hand up to his face in apology. To my surprise, I realize that Stan gave me 2 cards; one in particular had the name 'Kyle Broflowski' written on it.

"Thanks!" He says and snatches his card out of my hand. "You didn't have to do that for me, _Kenneth McCormick_." I flushed both in annoyance and happiness when he used full name as part of his praise for me. It felt like he only called me by my _full name_ when he felt respectful of me, as if I wasn't worthy enough to be given any in the first place. I know that it shouldn't bother me, but sometimes I wanted him to look at me more than just that 'idiot friend'.

"No problem," I frown, it was not like he could see it, anyway.

"Come on," he starts to pull at my arm, heading towards the Idol Arena, particularly where the dancing games were. "I wish Stan waited for me. We planned this for a while now." His smile falters for a bit but he manages to control it to near perfection. "Not that I _don't_ want _you_, Kenny."

I feel my heart skip a beat. I start to remember Death with Kyle's face, flirtatious and secretive. Not the Kyle that I see with me right now but I couldn't help but see every innocent gesture as something _more_.

"Damn you, Death," I growl, thankfully, Kyle doesn't hear me.

* * *

We stop at one of those dancing arcade games with the step pads. You know like Dance Dance Revolution. I took the left and Kyle took the one to my right.

"Sure that you can beat **me**, the _Dancing King_, Jew?" I laugh.

"In your dreams, Kenny!" He said back.

We were dancing to the Krewella song, '_Human'_. I nearly lost myself in the beat and rhythm, closing my eyes every now and then to imagine myself somewhere else.

I stomped my right foot hard into the panel, and then jumped on both of the pads a couple times. My vision kept waving over in Kyle's direction, noticing his look of determination at the screen in front of him. I would occasionally miss a few beats but it was worth it since I got to see more of him as he got lost in the game alongside me.

A single bead of sweat was dripping between his eyes. He looked so focused; I wouldn't doubt that if I went up to him right now that he wouldn't even notice me.

"Hey, Kyle!" I called out to him, pulling off my parka and throwing it onto the railing to my left. I did a backflip similar to the one that the avatar on the screen did and started to jump back with my body low near the floor. My hands hit some of the dance pads as I jumped back and forth from my hands to my feet. I finished off with a backspin, looking up at Kyle from the floor with my arm resting under my head.

When I got back up, I leaned back and stuck out an arm, wiggling my fingers up and down as if to say, 'Come on'. He looked stunned and frowned at me. At first I thought that he was going to give the game to me but he tossed his jacket and ushanka hat at me.

I could still feel the warmth from his clothing.

I looked back at him and saw him doing a backflip followed by a handstand, kicking his foot into the air, unnecessarily—game wise— while still scoring a perfect on the machine. When he got back up, he wrapped his arms around his waist in a tight hug and starts gyrating with his hips back and forth like a snake. His arms slowly trailed up and down his figure, rubbing at the surface of his body sensually like he was rubbing on lotion.

All the while, he would give me the occasional glance with impish eyes.

He finished it off as he ran at the railings, jumping off of it, doing a freaking triple flip before finishing off his beats.

I stood there stunned with my mouth ajar.

Kyle won, both inside and outside of the game by well over a few hundred thousand points. I didn't think the nerdy Jew had that in him. My thoughts wandered to what kind of body he had under his clothing. I quickly wipe my drool before he noticed.

"Another round?" Kyle tilted his head and asked, arms crossed in a cocky triumph.

"You know it!" I exclaimed with excitement as I threw his hat and jacket near where mines laid.

An hour or so passed by as the two of us started to draw in a large crowd. Half of them were entertained by our awesome dance moves and the other half were wondering how we were still managing to hit the high scores while doing unnecessary and excessive movements.

I could hear the cheering in the background. I loved every bit of it. Glancing back a bit, I saw more than a few hot girls cheering us on. Though, I'd hate to admit it, I think Kyle was drawing more stares than I was.

This was our 9th round and we weren't slowing down in the least, although I do admit that I was feeling a bit sweaty now. Like the stinky kind of sweaty.

"Ey—_Ewww,_ fags! **Sweaty dancing fags!**" Cartman's voice interrupted us as we were half way in. He pushed through the crowd of people, heading straight towards Kyle's area and grabbed onto the railing, shaking it hard! He made Kyle trip on his heel from the vibrations, falling backwards, hitting his head on the hard surface. I ended up winning that match but I ignored it as I ran to Kyle.

"Kyle! Are you alright?" I ask with worry.

"Stop being fuckin' gay, you two!" Cartman roared.

"I-I'm alright." Kyle laughed weakly and rubbed his head. He turned to glare at Cartman for a bit but dropped his scowl and smiled back up at me. "Can…you get my jacket and hat? I think I'm done." He asked weakly.

I wanted to stand up and punch Eric in the face for interrupting our little…_dance session_ but I swallow it down as deep as I could. There were more important things to worry about at the moment.

"Yeah, no problem." I grab the railing and slide under it to my side, tossing Kyle's things over to him and putting my parka on. "So, what is it, fat ass?" I say before zipping up my hood. I ignore the sweat causing my skin to stick thickly onto my jacket.

"Not fat, big boned!"

"Keep telling yourself that…," Kyle said, shaking his head. "So, what do you want?"

I could hear a few of our spectators groan in disappointment when they realized that we weren't going to 'perform' anymore.

I remembered to grab our game cards before reaching Kyle and Cartman. I'll be sure to remember this game for the next time. It was loads of fun!

As I approach their backs, I hear fat ass talking.

"We were going to ask if you guys wanted to play Super Nazis Co-Op with us but looks like you two are too busy being pussies!" The fatty gestured towards Butters—I didn't even notice the blond—and himself when he was speaking.

"Fat ass! I'm Jewish!" Kyle replied with tight lips.

"I know, I know. It's a serious condition but I'm sure they'll find a cure for it like we did with AIDS." Cartman had a look of intense thought as he held his hand under his chin.

I quickly jump between the two to prevent any skirmish.

I would rather stay in the GameArena as long as possible so that we, by that I mean _Kyle and I_, would be able to play more. I mean, if you know me, I say fuck Eric Cartman but I can't let him ruin my moment.

"Well, gee, fellas, maybe we can play another game?" Butters suggested and bumped his fists, nervously, his head was downcast.

"Butters," Cartman turns angrily at him and pinches the roof of his nose with a hand, "We can't just **play** another game. It has to be Super Nazis! They have freakin' Hitler in there _and_ Chuck Norris as a Guest Character!"

"Whoa," Hold on a moment. "They have _Chuck Norris_?" I asked with a huge grin. At this, Kyle slaps his own face and looks at me exasperatedly.

"Dude!" He says and I reply with a cocky _"Dude!"_ of my own.

"But they have Chuck freakin' Norris! Legend has it that the guy has a fist under his beard!" I reason but Kyle gives me that look that he would often give you when he thought you were being completely insane and asinine.

"See? Kinny agrees." Cartman crossed his arms in triumph and nodded at his own victory.

"I don't care if that game had fuckin' Jesus Christ in it!" I heard Cartman answer his rhetoric with something about Jesus being in the Super Nazis Add-on and Moses as a secret enemy, to which Kyle glared. "That game is horribly offensive to my people! I will **not** play it!" Kyle puffs out with round baby cheeks, ha ha. I would have squeezed them from the adorableness but I mentally slapped myself for thinking that!

I'll imagine for when I'm in bed later.

"Come on, Kyle," I tell him. "Don't have ants in your pants." A grin tugs at my lips as it turns into a smirk. "You can always have something _bigger_ and **harder** there, instead!" I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively but I doubt that he can see it from under my parka's hood.

I see him burst with rage but luckily enough he was so angry at us all that he kind of forgot about what he was angry about in the first place. "Fine!" He says. "I'll check out the stupid game! …For now."

Ah, peer pressure! When have you ever failed us? I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, "It'll be fine, bro. Trust me."

If I only knew about what would have happened next.


End file.
